


A Sister's Promise

by idontneedit



Series: A Sister's Promise [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Harry Potter, Evelyn is just like her brother, Family Feels, James has a younger sister, She just wants to take care of Harry and dress him in ridiculous and adorable clothes, and make products for her father's company, except she isn't at all, jk rowling you made a cool story but u r full of shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-17 13:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13659636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontneedit/pseuds/idontneedit
Summary: Evelyn Potter adored her brother and his wife, and thought the world of their son, Harry. However, because of ancient magic and wizarding law, her nephew is sent off to live with Lily Potter's abominable sister. Determined to save her nephew from the Dursley's abuse and cruelty, Evelyn desperately searches for the truth. However, her search is interrupted by former school bullies, lazy Potions Masters, and a well meaning house-elf.Inspired by a couple of posts by nonasuch on tumblr relating to the blood protection and related bullshit





	1. A Visit

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a series that I'm currently calling A Sister's Promise. I've got about another three or four chapters already written, and a general outline of the story. This first part covers just Evelyn trying to get custody of Harry, as well as step up a bit more backstory. I have a few ideas about Evelyn and James' school days and time before Hogwarts, so I might post those in a separate story in a series of shorts. Comment if you really want to see them!

Petunia Dursley felt like a criminal in her own home. She was sneaking down the stairs, carefully avoiding the squeaky step. She held her breath, watching for any sign that her husband, Vernon, had noticed that she was gone. Once Petunia determined that the close was clear, she tiptoed to the door under the stairs. She carefully opened the door, revealing a small boy with messy black hair and a scar on his forehead.

Petunia stared at the boy, his sleeping face peaceful. For the past two weeks, Petunia had cared for the boy. While Vernon had tried to convince her many times to give the boy up to an orphanage or Children’s Home, every time Petunia looked into the boy’s green eyes, she could hear Lily’s voice, begging her to keep him safe.

It was late at night on Privet Drive in November when Petunia was contemplating her life and sister’s son when the sharp knock on her front door pulled her out of her revere. Sighing, she stood up from where she crouched over the boy’s crib in the cupboard under the stairs and closed the door on the sleeping boy. Petunia had fought with Vernon, quietly, late at night until the two of them had come to an agreement: the boy could stay, but he must always be out of sight. No one could know.

Wrapping her robe tightly around herself, Petunia walked to the door, peering through the glass. Her mouth dropped in shock as she recognized the blurry shapes. While she couldn’t exactly tell who it was, she could recognize the shape of a wizard and a witch anywhere. For a moment, Petunia thought about not answering the door. She didn’t want anything more to do with magic and wizards and witches. However, the shorter figure in dark blue rapped on the door again. Steeling herself, she unlocked the door and twisted the knob to open the door a crack.

For a moment, Petunia didn’t recognize the woman. Her curly hair was bound back in a long braid which trailed over her shoulder and down her front, ending in a silver antler shaped clip. Her bright hazel eyes glimmered at Petunia, a well-groomed eye brow arched. Petunia was awash with memories of awkward dinners and summers where Lily and that dratted Potter would swan about the Evans’ home. She recalled that Potter had dragged his younger sister along several times. Petunia made her business to avoid the lot of them.

Evelyn Potter tossed her head back, her mouth pulling in a sardonic half smile. “Aren’t you going to invite us in, Petunia, or is it your custom to let guests freeze in the cold?”, she said.

Petunia drew herself up and pulled her mouth in a line. “Not if you’re uninvited”, she spat out at her.

“Now, now, ladies. Miss Potter and I are here to come to an agreement with you, Mrs. Dursley”, said the man behind Evelyn Potter. Petunia realized with a jolt that the person with Evelyn Potter was Albus Dumbledore. Although she had not met the man in person, she could recognize the silver bearded wizard anywhere. Lily had shown her a portrait of the Headmaster of Hogwarts years ago, when Lily had come home for the first time.

“Look at him, Tuney! Doesn’t he look like a proper wizard?”, twelve-year old Lily had said. She was showing Petunia a card with a wizard’s portrait on it, excited to show her older sister the headmaster of her school.

Petunia had taken the card, examining the man carefully. She gasped in shock, nearly dropping the card when he had winked at her. “He moved! Lily, he moved!”, Petunia shrieked.

Lily laughed at her shocked expression. “Yeah, they tend to do that in the wizarding world.” Lily leaned forward, her green eyes twinkling. “Apparently, for wizards it’s strange when they don’t move!”

Petunia pursed her lips in  the present moment and opened the door further. She kept her hand on the door and the sill, still blocking the two from entering. “I took the boy in. I did as you said. Now, what do you want from me?”, she demanded.

Dumbledore smiled at her. “First, perhaps, this conversation would be best conducted inside? And I do believe that Miss Potter is anxious to see her nephew.”

Petunia’s mouth tightened even more. Evelyn’s eyebrow raised again. Petunia could see that her hands were drawn into her long sleeves under her grey cloak, the edges of which were decorated with silver animals. For a moment, she thought that the witch would draw her wand on her. Her grip on the door tightened. Again, Petunia considered slamming the door on them and the rest of the world of magic, just as it had to her years before. Petunia saw the witch’s eyes dart to her hand on the door and the way it tightened. Something in her robes twitched.

Sensing tension building, Dumbledore placed a hand on Evelyn’s shoulder. “I do recognize that the last time we corresponded that it wasn’t under the best circumstances. However, Miss Potter has brought to me several concerns which I though was best to address, especially with you. Now, Mrs. Dursley, before Miss Potter and myself freeze in place,” Dumbledore gestured with his other hand into the house, raising an eyebrow,” now, shall we?”

Petunia released her grip on the door and pulled back, letting the two finally in to her home. Evelyn swept past her, releasing a floral scent. Petunia felt an immature urge to blow a raspberry after her. Dumbledore ducked through the door, the tip of his hat barely clearing the doorframe.

Evelyn turned around and looked at Petunia imperiously. “Where is Harry’s room? I want to see him”, she demanded.

Evelyn’s eyes darted all around the house, looking for any sign of her nephew. However, Evelyn only saw pictures of a chubby faced baby boy and his doting parents. There was no sign of Petunia’s sister, or her family.

Petunia was suddenly very aware of how small the door to the cupboard under the stairs was. All Petunia could do was stare at the tiny door, thinking about the boy behind it.

Evelyn’s eyebrows furrowed together, confused. She turned around, following Petunia’s eye line, and spotted the door. She whirled around, wafting more flowery scent around. This time she did draw her wand, sticking it under Petunia’s jaw. “Tell me that Harry isn’t in that closet. Tell me that Harry is in his own room, safe”, she said tightly, her voice dangerously low. Petunia could feel and see her anger through the shaking wand and her tight jaw.

Before Petunia could admit or deny anything, Petunia heard the snicket of the door opening. Her eyes darted over to the sight of Dumbledore bent over the small cot in the cupboard under the stairs. He bent up, holding the sleeping child in his arms. Petunia’s cheeks burned at the sad and disappointed look in Dumbledore’s blue eyes.

“Miss Potter, while I understand your anger, it would be best if you put your wand away. Mrs. Dursley… please lead us to your sitting room”, he said, his voice soft, gently rocking the boy in his arms. He did not look up at Petunia while he did so, keeping his eyes on Harry.

Petunia shivered as Evelyn put her wand down but didn’t put it away. She turned around and took Harry from Dumbledore, softly cooing at the sleeping child’s face. She trailed a finger over the scar on his forehead. Petunia could hear her murmuring something before the scar seemed to disappear.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Evelyn. “It’s still there”, said Evelyn quietly. “I just made it less obvious.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I’m afraid that concealing charms and illusions won’t do much to his scar, my dear. That’s the nature of curse scars.”

 Petunia coughed, getting the two’s attention. “This way”, she muttered, taking them through to the sitting room.

With out checking if they followed her in, Petunia sat on the couch. She twisted her hands between her knees, leaning forward. A dark feeling churned in her stomach that she had been ignoring since she put the boy in the cupboard grew and swirled behind her throat. She heard the two-walk in. Looking up, she saw that Evelyn had her wand out and murmuring. She was waving it over the boy, frowning whenever the light on the end of her wand changed. She sat down without looking on Vernon’s favorite chair, still holding the boy.

Evelyn didn’t look anywhere else but at Harry, her hazel eyes on his little face. She gently touched his cheek, cooing at the way his little eyes scrunched up at her touch. Dumbledore stayed standing, smiling at the reunion between nephew and aunt. Suddenly, the soft smile on his face dropped and he turned to Petunia.

“Now, Mrs. Dursley. To the reason why we are here”, his gentle voice gone, almost icy.

Petunia sat up, suddenly feeling like the time she had been caught by her mum and dad smoking with Johnny Green in the park when she was 15. Her father had looked at her in the same disappointed way. Her mother had mostly yelled.

“I had left a letter explaining as to why Harry would be left in your care. When I had left Harry with you, it was under the expectation that your love for your sister would extend to your nephew. It seems I was mistaken.”

At this, Evelyn looked up, almost triumphantly.

“However, I cannot release Harry from your care currently.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened, her mouth opening.

“Dumbledore you cannot be serious! You’ve seen where she put him! Like an unwanted pair of boots, or- or- “She spluttered, her olive skin darkening with anger.

Dumbledore put a hand up. “I understand your anger, Miss Potter. I had not expected that Mrs. Dursley’s love for her sister was so shallow as to be swayed to act in such a way.”

Petunia’s cheeks burned. She wanted to argue with them, say that she did love her sister, that she did everything to convince her husband- but that was a lie, wasn’t it? It only took Vernon three days to convince her to put the boy in the cupboard under the stairs. A voice that sounded like Lily hissed in her ear; you should have tried harder.

She swallowed and looked down to her impeccable carpet.

Dumbledore continued.

“On the night Lily and James died, a mysterious magic happened. This magic has only occurred very rarely in the past thousand years, recorded a handful of times. Each time, dark magic is preformed on a family. Each time, only the child survives. Although there is no perfect record to the exact magic preformed, what can be discerned is that the child has a sort of protection placed on them. The child, while not immune to the cruelties of other people,” Petunia shrank here”, becomes immune to most dark magics. They cannot be harmed by those who are cursed themselves. They cannot be found by those who wish to harm them. They cannot be placed under dark curses themselves, and, in some cases, become immune to nearly all dark spells. I had assumed that Lily’s sacrifice had done the same.”

Here, Dumbledore paused. His eyes were fixed on some point far away. “In every case, the magic preformed was by the mother. Mother’s magic, as we understand it, is particularly powerful in creating protective and healing spells on children. So, by that logic, whenever a child is orphaned or abandoned, it is custom to place the child with the mother’s family. However, Miss Potter has brought up an excellent case. Evelyn?”

Evelyn looked up from Harry. She cleared her throat and remained seated. “The wizarding world is one that places great emphasis and importance on tradition, mostly due to the fear that without it, we would lose our sense of self. Therefore, often we go through the motions without considering why we do what we do. We place the child with the mother’s family because we believe that magic and the power of it comes from the mother. So, when a squib is born, wizarding families place the blame on the mother with out looking into the father. However, in the cases that Professor Dumbledore spoke about, nearly every witch came from a wizarding family. There aren’t many cases of witches who came from muggle families preforming this magic or having to have to preform this magic.” She took a breath here.

Petunia felt like she was being left behind, like a stupid child who hadn’t bothered to read for that day’s lesson.

Evelyn adjusted her grip on Harry. “The understanding of the magic placed on Harry is that he will be protected from dark magic and dark wizards until his 17th birthday, on which he becomes an adult by wizarding standards. At that time, his natural magic will break through any child tracking and protection charms, including the magic placed on him. The magic is believed to be at its most powerful when placed among ‘those who share the blood of the mother’. But that’s the keyword right there. Believed. There is no evidence to suggest that placing the child with the mother’s family makes the magic more powerful, or that the child even needs to be placed with a specific family.” Evelyn paused, her arms tightening around Harry and looking Petunia in her eyes. “All a child needs is love. Because that’s where this magic comes from. Love, given unconditionally, without bargains.”

Petunia couldn’t speak. This boy- this child. She had already failed him from the start.

Dumbledore looked down, almost ashamed. “Miss Potter, are you asking to be Harry’s guardian?”, he said gently.

Evelyn stood up, a fierce look in her eyes. “I am telling you, that I am taking Harry. That I am taking him away from this woman, from this wretched illusion of a home”. She walked up to Petunia, towering over her. “Who would allow a child to sleep in a cupboard?” She looked down at Petunia, her eyes flashing. “A sham of a person. I don’t think you could be really considered a person”, she said softly.

Dumbledore sighed, pulling a hand over his face. “I really shouldn’t have any sort of hesitation in this matter. However, I cannot, in good conscious, hand guardianship to you, Miss Potter”.

Evelyn turned around, her grip on Harry tightening, as if she was afraid Dumbledore would take him away. “What on earth are you say? That I would be worse then-then- then these /people/? These monsters can’t even care for a child for more then a day without locking him away like a dark secret! Harry shouldn’t have to live with these people, especially when they don’t know how special he is!” Evelyn’s voice barely stayed above a whisper this whole time.

“Even so, Miss Potter. We cannot deny the centuries of writing on this subject”, said Dumbledore sadly.

“Even so? Even so? What did I do, just now, explaining to you exactly why we believe these things? They have no basis in fact, beyond what is written!” Evelyn barely controlled herself this time, her voice nearly slipping several times.

Petunia was silent this entire time. However, she finally spoke up.

“She’s right. We aren’t fit to care fort the boy”, Petunia said quietly. Evelyn stepped back and looked at Petunia triumphantly.

“See? Even she agrees with me, and she doesn’t even know the full magic and theory behind it!”

Dumbledore looked troubled. “Even so. Harry’s safety is paramount. I cannot deny what is known.”

“What is /thought/ to be known. Professor! There isn’t evidence to the contrary, that the child couldn’t be placed with the father’s family, or even an entirely separate family!”

He shook his head. “Miss Potter, we must look at what we know. We cannot go by what we do not know.”

Evelyn drew her wand and flicked it at Vernon’s chair. It shook and turned in to a bassinet, complete with a mobile of the solar system. She placed Harry in it carefully. After doing so, she turned around. Petunia noted that she kept her wand in her grip.

“What we know? What we know? What we know is that based on scraps of gossips, rumor, and here say, we should place a child with a family who may not even love them! This ridiculous pattern of keeping to tradition has only failed our people time after time. Did we not just end a war based on the ideology and bigotry of those who wished to keep to tradition?”, she spat out. She gripped her wand tighter. She took a deep breath and continued. “Anyways, how are they supposed to keep him safe?”

Dumbledore opened his mouth to answer, but Petunia’s worst nightmares came to life when a sound came from upstairs. /Vernon! / Petunia remembered with a start.

Petunia felt like she had been frozen when she heard the tell-tale steps of Vernon walk across their room upstairs. She rose up from her seat, her hands out stretched, as if to usher them out of the room. “Out”, she hissed through her teeth. “Vernon cannot know that you’re here.”

Before either of them could answer, Vernon had already trudged downstairs. “Petunia? Are you alright dear? You haven’t come back to bed so I- “

Vernon had reached the bottom of the steps when he noticed the unusual state of his sitting room. His favorite chair had been replaced by a baby’s bassinet, there was a strange woman holding a stick at another strange man, and his wife was attempting to shove them out of the room.

“Petunia? What on earth- “, he sputtered before a spell from Evelyn shot at his mouth. Vernon suddenly found himself unable to make any sound.

“I’m not in any mood to deal with idiots today, especially ones who advocate for the abuse of children” said Evelyn darkly. Petunia could have sworn that Dumbledore looked a touch embarrassed. Evelyn strode forward, getting face to face to Vernon. “I heard about you, from Lily. She thought that Petunia getting married to you was a mistake. She could tell that you were mean, and shallow, and small minded. I guess, by the treatment of my nephew, that she was right”, she said softly. Petunia could barely hear her. Vernon was slowly turning more and more purple. Petunia was afraid that he would pass out.

Evelyn turned away from him, running a hand through the hair on the top of her head, neatening it up again. She huffed out a breath. “I can see that there’s no convincing you, Dumbledore”, she sighed. Her eyes narrowed suddenly, as if she had just come on a thought. “If I could find evidence that this spell doesn’t require shelter by the mother’s family, or some sort of loophole, that would let me take care of Harry, would you let me take care of him?”, she asked.

“Of course, Miss Potter”, agreed Dumbledore.

“Wait. Do you not want the boy?”, asked Petunia.

“Don’t be stupid, Petunia. I want him more then anything. However, if you’ve been paying attention, you’d know that this magic doesn’t have enough background for me to safely take him. I will come for Harry, I promise you that. You just need to take care of him until I can be sure that I can take him away safely”, said Evelyn. Petunia could see that Evelyn’s eyes looked determined. For a moment, Petunia suddenly felt like she was talking to her sister, not a stranger.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dumbledore flick a wand at Vernon. Suddenly, Vernon could speak again.

“Now wait a ruddy minute! You lot just dump that child- that unnatural creature on our doorstep with out as much as a say! We will not be taking this boy in for another minute more. Take him out!” ranted Vernon, his large face reddening.

Petunia froze. She loved Vernon. She truly did. But occasions such as this made Petunia wish he knew to be silent when he needed to be.

Dumbledore reached a hand out to Evelyn, as if to stop her, but he was too late.

Petunia couldn’t be sure as to what happened to Vernon, but where he had stood, a fat toad sat. It jumped at Evelyn, but another flick from Evelyn’s wand froze the frog in mid-air. It squawked mournfully, floating in air.

“Toads are quite useful in potions-making, did you know that?”, said Evelyn softly. She prodded the frog, which caused it to swell slightly. “The eyes are useful in migraine reducing, the legs in mobility increasing. Even the gizzards are helpful in indigestion preventing potions.” The fat, swollen toad groaned as she balanced it in the air with her wand.

Suddenly, Petunia realized exactly who it was. “V-VERNON! What have you done to him! Put him back, you foul, loathsome cunt!”, she shrieked. “You walk into my home and turn my furniture into other furniture and turning my husband into a- a- a toad!”

Evelyn snorted rudely. “He’s a horned toad, to be specific. I kept thinking about how I needed to buy more toads. I really meant to just jinx his mouth shut.”

Petunia shook with rage. Before anything else could happen, Dumbledore swept a hand over Vernon the Toad, turning him back with a thump. Vernon sat on the ground, his eyes wild. He began to sputter again, attempting to get up again. But before he could say anything more, Dumbledore waved another hand over him. His eyes slid shut and he slumped backward. Petunia could hear a gentle snore emitting from his mouth.

“I think, Evelyn, we have intruded on the Dursley’s hospitality long enough. We’ll just set everything back to order and let them sleep. I will take care of Mr. Dursley. Evelyn, could you perhaps set up a space for Harry? I do believe that this house has 4 bedrooms.”

Evelyn nodded. She picked up Harry from the transformed bassinet and tapped it, turning it back into the chair. Dumbledore took out his wand and made a random gesture with it, causing Vernon to float.

“It’s the first bedroom on the right, correct?”

Petunia realized with a jolt that he was addressing her. Petunia nodded, and when she remembered that he was looking away from her, said yes.

Evelyn followed Dumbledore up the stairs, with Petunia trailing behind them. Dumbledore waved the door to Petunia and Vernon’s bedroom open and floated Vernon’s sleeping body through. Evelyn paused, watching Dumbledore. She turned, walking to the left towards the guest bedroom. She opened the door and began to cast spells under her breath. Petunia peeked behind her as Evelyn preformed various charms and incantations. Soon, the sensibly dressed room became a tidy nursery, complete with toys and a bassinette that had a mobile, this time of seven cloaked figures on tiny brooms. In Evelyn’s arms, Harry wriggled and whined. “Oh, darling boy! Did I wake you up?”, cooed Evelyn. “It’s me, your Aunty Evie! I know it’s been a while since your birthday, but I promise you’ll see me much more often now.”

Harry’s bright green eyes fixed on his aunt’s face, and he broke into a sleepy smile. “Hello, love!”, said Evelyn happily.

Evelyn slowly laid Harry down in the blue and white bassinette. With a tap of her wand, the mobile above him began to whirl. He giggled, his tiny fists reaching up to the mobile. Evelyn took out a handkerchief and tapped it, murmuring a spell. It grew, and the colors shifted, turning into a soft dark blue blanket the same color as Evelyn’s robes. Evelyn wrapped it around Harry, stroking his head. “I can’t take you home with me today, but I have a room all ready for you. Its got so many toys for you! I have a dragon plush, and a bear, and a hippogriff! You could sleep with a new toy every night, love.”

Evelyn’s voice became stifled and choked, as if she were trying not to cry. Petunia walked in cautiously. The room looked warm, and soft. A perfect room for a baby boy. For a moment, Petunia felt envy deep in her heart. This room should belong to Dudley, not some stranger’s child, she thought bitterly.

Evelyn stood up, carefully wiping away the tears. She turned to Petunia. “This room is temporary, for Harry. And if you dare to put Harry in that cupboard again, I’ll- well”, she paused, a nasty smile on her face. “You saw what I did to your husband. I can’t promise I wouldn’t be crueler to you.”

Petunia shivered.

“You have a son of your own, don’t you?”, Evelyn continued softly. She trailed a gentle hand on the now sleeping Harry. “I wonder what would have happened if it was you and Vernon instead of my brother and Lily? Would they have put Dudley in a closet, to be forgotten?”

Petunia, not for the first time that night, wished she had fought harder with Vernon.

Evelyn turned away and bent over Harry, giving him a gentle kiss. Petunia could see in the light from the hallway that the scar on Harry’s forehead was apparent again, despite whatever Evelyn had done to it.

Evelyn turned away from Petunia, wiping away tears again. Then, holding her head up high, swept past Petunia into the hallway where Dumbledore stood waiting.

Petunia followed the two down the stairs, into the entryway, and out the door. She stood in the door, watching them as they walked away. Evelyn stopped, turning towards number 4 Privet Drive one last time. “I’ll be back, every weekend. I’ll take him and return him. Until I can fully prove that Harry can be safe with me, I’ll be here every Friday afternoon.”

Petunia nodded mutely, wrapping her robe around her tightly.

She watched the two figures walk into the night, disappearing around the corner. She stood there, not saying anything, not doing anything for some time. Then, she turned around and walked inside her home. The light in the hallway clicked off, and shortly after the light in the upstairs window clicked off as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Evie ran her hands through her hair roughly, making the wild mess even wilder and messier. The neat and well decorated study had papers and books scattered all around it. Evie’s desk was covered in scribbled all over papers with open books floating next to her desk. The papers on her desk were illuminated by lamps set on her desk and around the room. The fire in the study was dying down. For the last three weeks, with breaks on the weekends interrupting as she took care of her nephew, Evie had been furiously researching the magic protecting her nephew. Not one book or journal on protective magic had any sort of new information beyond the accepted truth.

Evie’s reading-sore eyes burned as she squinted down at what she had written. She leaned back in her high back chair, her head thumping against the blue plush. She held her hands in front of her, examining the ink stained fingers. She turned her hands palm up, closing them in a fist to examine her nails. The usually iridescent blue nails were wearing down and dulling in color. Dropping her hand in to her night shirt covered lap, Evie looked up. Her eyes seemed to look past the soft grey ceiling with silver and blue swirling decorative details.

Evie closed her eyes, trying to orient her thoughts. Based on most of her research, it seemed that the consensus boiled down to three accepted truths: the Maternis Spell is only cast by mothers with their dying breath. The Maternis Spell’s protective abilities is only active if the child is kept by the mother’s family. Finally, the Maternis Spell’s full capabilities cannot be measured.

“Yeah, because no one has ever bothered to investigate it beyond what was accepted,” Evie huffed out loud. “If I could only get the exact moment that the spell was cast. Then I could really get to the bottom of what gives power to this spell.”

A vague pounding that had been dully sounding in her head seemed to grow as Evie’s frustration grew more. Nothing she read seemed to indicate anything beyond what was thought of as fact. In fact, Evie’s research only seemed to prove that the wizarding world preferred fiction to fact. She opened her eyes again, irritated.

Evie pulled herself out of her chair and walked over to the window. She picked up a dressing gown that laid on the back of her chair and wrapped it around herself. Pulling aside the blue and silver curtains, she was greeted by weak grey morning light. The street in front of her house was empty of people. Frost on the window glittered weakly, swirling in intricate patterns. She drew on the window, scratching with the tip of the nail of her pointer finger. She pressed her forehead against the cold glass, sighing. Her breath fogged up the glass in front of her face. Below her window, vehicles and people began to move as the sun rose in the early morning sky. Across the street, she watched the butler sweep the ice off of the front step. He opened a sack of salt that say by the door and sprinkled it on the steps. The butler walked down and back up the steps, checking that no ice remained on the steps. Satisfied, he returned to the warm interior of the house.

Evie stepped away from the window, leaving a mark where her forehead had rest. She dropped the curtain and stepped over the various piles of readings towards the door. Carefully tottering over the last pile, Evie pushed the door open into the hallway and left her study.

She walked down the hall towards the stairs. Pausing briefly before going down the stairs, Evie pulled the top half of her hair into a bun, leaving the rest loose. She climbed down the stairs, passing each floor with out stopping. Finally, Evie reached the ground floor and walked into the kitchen.

The large space was empty on this early morning. The table was cleanly swept, the fire place was dying down, and the brass pots glimmered in the sunlight. Evie walked toward the fireplace, waving a wand as she went. A kettle unhooked itself and floated toward the stove. As it passed her, Evie tapped her wand against it, murmuring _Aguamenti_. Another wand movement and tea leaves flew out of a can and into a lavender and pink teapot. A tea cup and plate soared through the air from a cabinet, followed by utensils. It all landed neatly on the table in order. Evie tapped the edge of the fork, straightening it. She yawned, her overnight session catching up to her.

Before Evie could raise her wand again, a small crack coming from just left of the fireplace interrupted her. Evie turned her head, taking in the small creature.

Nibby the house-elf stamped her foot grumpily. “Miss Potter is not to be doing Nibby’s work! Miss Potter is to be calling Nibby for break fasts and lunches and dinners!” squeaked the tiny elf, her pink tinged ears quivering. Nibby twisted her hands in her silvery pillowcase, drawn in the waist by a lime green ribbon.

Evie sighed, smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry, Nibby. I was thinking about something else.”

Nibby looked up at Evie with her big brown eyes. “Nibby is to be knowing this. Nibby is to be knowing that Mistress is missing her Jamie and his Missus Lily. Nibby is to be knowing that Mistress is missing baby Harry. Nibby is to be knowing this because Nibby is to be knowing that Mistress adds new things to the Children’s Room for baby Harry to have”, Nibby said, her voice quivering. Her eyes fill with tears. Nibby looked down, her hands playing with the frayed end of her ribbon. Nibby’s voice was quiet as she spoke. “Nibby wants Mistress to be knowing that while Nibby is only to be an house-elf for the Potters, Nibby is to be also Mistress’s support”. Her voiced quavered even more. “Nibby is to be wanting that Mistress is safe, that she is to be taking care of herself.”

Evie stared at the tiny house-elf. “Nibby, I didn’t know”, she said softly. She kneeled, getting close to Nibby. “I need to do this for Harry.”

Nibby nodded, her overflowing eyes dribbling tears. Evie Summoned a handkerchief and gently wiped the tears away. Nibby gently pushed Evie’s hand away and smiled trembling up at Evie. “Nibby is to be comforting Mistress, not Mistress to be comforting Nibby.”

Evie smiled at Nibby, laughing softly. “Nibby, you’ve been comforting me since I was 3. I should be paying you back a little.”

Nibby straightened up, Vanishing her tears away. “Now,” Nibby said briskly,” Nibby is to be feeding Mistress, not to be crying on you.” She ushered Evie to her seat and snapped her fingers, causing several pans to unhook themselves and fly to the stove, where several gas burners were lit. Eggs, thick pieces of bacon, and milk flew in from the pantry. A sack of flower soared in from a cabinet, as well as box of strawberries from the back garden. Nibby snapped her fingers again, and the eggs cracked themselves and dropped themselves into the pan, sizzling and crackling. The stripes of bacon laid themselves neatly against the whitening eggs. The flour and additional eggs mixed themselves together in a bowl, with the milk tipping over in to the bowl after. Nibby pointed at the strawberries, which neatly lined up to be sliced up by a large knife.

Soon, a large breakfast was ready for Evie. The eggs and bacon were lined up in a smiling face, with a strawberry nose. The rest of the cut-up strawberries sat in a bowl next to the plate. Another plate held a stack of fluffy pancakes. The pink and lavender teapot tipped over in to a chipped mug next to Evie, turning white as cream was added.

Evie smiled at Nibby. “Thank you, Nibby. It looks amazing, as always.”

Nibby flicked a towel at Evie that she had been using to dry the pans. “It is to be Nibby’s job, Mistress.”

Evie grinned and tucked into the breakfast set before her, summoning the pitcher of syrup to dribble over her pancakes.

As Evie ate, two owls swooped in to the warm kitchen. One of them held a copy of the Daily Prophet. Evie gave the tawny owl a bit of bacon and two Knuts as she took the newspaper. As the owl flew out, Evie turned to the other one. She couldn’t quite place the handsome creature but took the offered letter.

Giving it a bit of egg and bacon, she flipped the letter over. The curling capital S in shimmering green wax instantly told Evie all that she needed to know.

Sighing, Evie flicked her wand over the letter, opening it. “It is very in Slughorn’s character to flock to the famous and powerful”, she muttered. “Ten galleons that this is a proposal to become a tutor for Harry or something.”

Scanning the letter, Evie frowned.

“Dear Miss Potter,

                As your Potions Professor during your time at Hogwarts, I had the joy to see you grow and become the Potion Expert you are now. It is my understanding that you continued to grow and innovate in Ilvermorny. In fact, recent correspondence with Professor Bitterroot has informed me that Potions was your strongest suit during your time there. It brings me great pride to know that your innate talent, cultivated by your time under my tutelage as well as your time with Beatrice, has become amazing skill and instinct.

My reason for writing you is to offer two things; my condolences for the loss of your brilliant brother and your loving sister in law. Lily was exceedingly kind and brilliant, and the world is darker with her in it. James’ presence is dearly missed by all. His ability to make those around him laugh brought brightness to a dark time.

Secondly, I wish to extend an invitation to you to study under me to complete your Potions Mastery. Beatrice informed me that you had ended your apprenticeship when you were informed of your brother and sister in law’s death. While I risk sounding like a busy body, I shudder to think that the world would be deprived of your talent, especially when a Potions Mastery can take your career far.

I understand that you are currently researching an ancient and largely unknown magic. As an incentive, I would like to remind you that teachers and apprentices have free reign over the library, including the restricted and hidden sections.

I urge you to think carefully and consider your options. Hogwarts and myself eagerly await your response.

                                Sincerely yours,

                                                Professor H. Slughorn, Potions Master”

Evie sat the letter down, stroking the handsome bird.

So. Slughorn wanted her to apprentice for him. It would benefit him greatly, no doubt, having the sister of James Potter under his tutelage, back in Hogwarts.

However.

Evie contemplated the fact that she would get unlimited access to the library, which would certainly help her research. On the other hand, Evie would be expected to be at the beck and call of Slughorn, acting as a spare arm for his every wish. And Evie wouldn’t be able to get the whole weekend to take care of Harry.

She scanned over the note, noting how he wrote about Lily and James. Although he had written more about James, she could feel the emotion on the line he wrote about Lily. Evie could remember that James often complained about the extent to which Slughorn would complement Lily and that boy, especially when they had been younger. Evie could use Slughorn’s capacity for sentiment to her and Harry’s advantage.

Evie set the letter down and cleared off the last of the pancakes. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and patted the owl on the head. “I need to think about this before I reply. You may return to Professor Slughorn.”

The owl hooted and flapped it’s wings once, before flying out the window.

Evie stood up from the table, tucking the newspaper under her arm. She folded the letter and placed it back inside the envelope it had come in. She pocketed it and turned to Nibby. “Nibby, I’ll be in my study. Thank you for the meal”, she said politely.

Nibby waved an ear at her, her arms deep inside suds and dirty plates.

Evie left the warm kitchen, walking into the morning lit hallway.  The front door’s window glowed with morning light behind the white curtain. Evie walked to it, peeking outside again. Noise charms prevented the outside world from invading into her home. Outside, the cars and people moved silently up and down the street. A group of children ran together, all dressed in the local school’s uniform. A mother pushed a pram, while a small girl in pigtails and dressed warmly walked next to her. Business men in long coats and suits held suitcases in their hands. She watched as Mrs. Across-The-Street kiss Mr. Across-The-Street on the cheek. He returned the kiss, patted her large stomach and whispered to it, and stepped down to the street. She waved to him as he walked away, smiling widely.

Evie dropped the curtain, her heart panging. While Lily would have never been the type to wave her husband off while he went to work, they never had the chance to even consider doing that in public. The blasted war had taken any chance of normal for them, stealing any future that they could have had.

Her eyes stinging, Evie leaned against the door. She covered her face with the newspaper, hiding her tears.

A few moments later, she sniffled and wiped her eyes. She tucked the newspaper back under her arm and swiped her fingers under her eyes, checking for any missed drops. Holding her head up, Evie walked up the stairs to her study.

A few hours later, early afternoon sunlight streamed into her study past the crack in the curtains. Evie’s head was laid down on top of her arms, her mouth slightly open as she slept. A glass pen sat loosely in her grip, leaving a trail of dark green ink from the last word she had written.

Evie had changed and neatened up. Her hair was braided back into one long braid, which was draped over her shoulder, dangling to the ground. Her night shirt and dressing gown had been exchanged for a pair of dark high waisted pants and a light grey blouse, the sleeves of which had been rolled up to her elbows. Evie slept uneasily as sunlight slowly crept up her face.

Evie woke up, blinking blearily as light filled her eyes. Putting a hand up to block the light out, Evie slowly sat up. Grumbling, Evie got up to adjust the curtains that had let in the offending light. Evie scrubbed at her eyes, not noticing that she had drawn a fine green line across her forehead in the process.

She went back to her desk, picking the letter up. Rubbing at the last trail of ink, she placed the pen that had been her hand in the pen holder. She read the letter that she had begun.

“Dear Professor, Slughorn,

                Thank you for the kind words. I knew that Lily had considered you to be one of her most favorite teachers when she was at Hogwarts. I’m sure that she would have greatly appreciated your words. James never spoke at length about his Potions classes, as you likely knew best that he never truly excelled at the subject. He preferred wand work over hard work, as my father used to say.

As to your offer, as much as I would love to leap at the chance to return to Hogwarts, I am afraid that I cannot immediately accept your kind invitation. As you know, Lily and James left behind their son, Harry. I wished to be his sole guardian, as his godfather was revealed to be the betrayer of Lily and James’ trust. Unfortunately, I- “

At that point, Evie must have dosed off. The rest of the sentence became undecipherable scribbles that trailed off into a line and a spot. Evie sighed, irritated. She had remembered writing, but it seemed that her dreaming mind had continued to write for her. She had dreamt finishing and sending the letter of to Slughorn. Scrubbing at her forehead, smearing the ink even worse, Evie tossed the letter back on to the desk. Her eyes blurred as she blinked, signaling that she needed to sleep more, and soon.

Yawning widely, she walked out of the room, heading to the stairs again. Stumbling down the stairs, she blindly walked to her bedroom.

The hallway leading to her room was lined with pictures of flower that swayed slightly in an unseen breeze. Landscape depicting locations around the British Isles showed white covered fields, snowcapped mountains, and frozen ponds and lakes. Evie passed these images, eyes passing over them without seeing them.

She paused briefly in front of the only other door on this level. The Potter Townhouse was unusual in that it could be easily modified to shrink or expand with every generation. Each floor was dedicated to one generation or age group, with the top floor belonging to the head of the family. Evie had taken over the study on the top floor because it was the largest and had all her father’s books. She couldn’t bring her self to take the Master bedroom as her own. It was too big for just her, and she asked Nibby to keep her mother and father’s clothes clean and hung up inside their robes.

When Evie had returned to her childhood home, it struck her how silent and cold the house seemed. The first floor had always been permeated by the strong floral scents of her father’s potion that he either was brewing or creating for the hair potions company he owned. Her mother’s floors where she held parties and entertained usually had one or two guests at the minimum. And before her brother had married and left the townhouse, he always had his friends over, plotting their next prank. Whether it was for Evie or for their parents, summer always held a hint of anticipation, especially at the start of summer or before the beginning of school.

Now, the tall white painted townhouse only held one occupant and a house-elf. Most rooms were locked, especially the one leading to James Potter’s room.

The placard on the door was stamped with elegant script, announcing that James Potter once resided in this room. Evie put a hand on it, feeling the slight grooves of his name. Even though it had been over a month since her brother had passed, she still expected him to be just on the other side of the door. She knew that James hadn’t lived in the town house for just under 3 years when he left for the small cottage in Godric’s Hollow, but all the same, Evie still felt that he was behind every corner, playing his usual games and tricks.

But even if James was still here, that would mean that Black would be right beside every step he made.

Evie’s stomach twisted. How could she have missed it? For over 10 years, James and Black had been best friends. Black had stayed under this very roof, brought in by her mother and father after hearing his sob story of abusive fathers and cold-hearted mothers.

Evie, at the time, had been broken hearted at his story. She remembered holding his hand as he stared at the carpet, telling her parents that he had been forced out of his parent’s home. James sat on his other side, begging his parents to let Sirius to stay with them.

“Sirius is very clean, rarely has fleas, house trained, and he’s also a great companion!”, James had said. Evie glared at him, despite Sirius hiding a grin.

“James, don’t talk about Sirius like he’s a dog! Honestly, don’t you have a single ounce of seriousness in you?”, Evie said irritated. She pointed at Sirius, her hazel eyes narrowed. “And don’t think about making a pun on that. I’m trying to help you here!”

Black had snickered, rubbing an arm over his nose. “S’okay, Evie. James is right. I can be a bit of a dog at times.” James laughed to himself, clearly enjoying himself.

Evie’s father had sighed, barely hiding a grin. Fleamont smiled at Sirius, looking at him fondly. “Sirius, I’ve always considered you to be a son of mine. Our home is always open to you”.

Euphemia nodded and stood up to hug Sirius. “You can stay as long as you need, love.”

Evie remembered that her father had set up a room right next to James’ for Sirius. In a fit of anger and deep mourning, Evie had destroyed and erased Black’s door, which had been dark red with black accents.

There still was an outline where the door had been, barely hidden by a small table and picture.

For a moment, Evie considered going into James’ room, but exhaustion pulled at her again, and she turned away and continued to her room.

Her own door was painted blue with lavender accents, with a similar placard as James, with her name instead.

Evie’s room faced the street, like her study three floors above. The large windows let sunlight in, streaming across a neat room. Her child hood room was blue and purple in coloring, with her bedsheets and wallpaper matching. Nearly all her furniture was white with blue and purple accents.

Evie had been set on Ravenclaw, but the Hat had sorted her into Gryffindor with her brother. Sometimes, Evie had wondered if it had been the right choice. Her father had been in Gryffindor, while her mother had been in Hufflepuff. Both had told James and Evie that any Sorting did not make them any less then a Potter.

However, Evie kept the colors after her Sorting because she still loved blue and purple as colors. Now, 8 years after her Sorting, Evie didn’t feel comforted at the sight of the familiar colors. She had picked the theme out with her mother, years before coming to Hogwarts. She had grown tired of the soft green and pink themed room and asked her mother to change the colors.

They had gone to Diagon Alley, visiting several reputable woodworkers and decorators. Evie had insisted on white wood and paint only, and that everything else would be blue and purple. Privately, Evie thought that her mother steered the direction of her room’s decorations to be more appropriate for a little girl.

Sighing, Evie pulled out her wand and waved it in the direction of her closet. It spat out a night shirt, which Evie caught and changed into after stepping out of her pants and tugging her blouse off. She kicked her shoes off and pulled the covers off her bed. Tomorrow, she would write to Slughorn. She would have his answer written and sent by the end of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3: Evie gets a late night letter. Evie gets an early morning letter. Evie makes a decision.


	3. A Midnight Letter

Evelyn was sitting at the Gryffindor table in Hogwarts, waiting. Despite the light streaming through the large windows, there wasn’t anyone else there. She looked around, searching for other people. After a few minutes, she got up and left the Great Hall.

The corridors were empty, too. It seemed that not a soul was in Hogwarts that day. She continued, walking a path she knew would take her to the greens and to the Great Lake. She felt that she had to go there.

The only noise that she could hear were the sounds of her own foot-steps and the swish of her school robes. She passed by windows and open arch ways, showing that outside was warm and sunny. She saw no other people until she came to the exit door that led to the Lake. She could see a small mass of black robes congregating in a crowd.

Hurrying out of the castle and down to the Great Lake, she could see the giant squid laying in the shallows, letting students tickle its tentacles. She vaguely recognized some of the students as classmates of her brother and his friends. Evie passed them, heading towards the larger group of people. She could hear them, especially James’ loud voice. Lily Evans pushed past the crowd, her green eyes ringed with red.

“Lily? What’s wrong?”, asked Evie.

Lily shot a dark look behind her. “Everything. Your brother’s a toe rag and Sev is an arse. I don’t want anything to do with either of them”, Lily spat out, her pale cheeks glowing with rage.

Before Evie could say anything else, Lily walked away, her head held high. Evie turned to the crowd, curious.

Evie pushed through the crowd, frustrated at her lack of height. She couldn’t recognize any of the faces, all of them strangely blurry.

Finally, she pushed through into a large space surrounded by students. The tableau in front of her illustrated a strange scene. Remus Lupin sat at the edge, looking bored. Sirius Black stood near him, looking admiringly at the center. James, with his wand out, stood closer to the middle of the clearing, his face grinning and malicious. Peter Pettigrew was sitting near Sirius and Remus, laughing. In front of James, there was a black mass of robes floating above James.

 “Remus? What’s going on?”, asked Evie.

Before Remus could answer, Sirius flung an arm around Evie. “My little Potter-lette, we’re teaching an important lesson to Snivellus”, Sirius said, sneering. “This is an important one, especially for ickle little girls to know, too!”

Evie scowled at Sirius, pushing his arm off her. Remus said to Evie, “Snape called Lily Evans a mudblood, so James retaliated.”

Evie froze, and turned to the mass of black robes. Severus Snape’s sallow face appeared from the mass, slowly turning mauve as James twisted his wand, flipping Snape upside down. Her stomach twisted in anger.

Pushing Sirius aside, Evie strode over to James and pulled on his sleeve. James at 15 was a head taller than his little sister, and often used his height to pretend not to be able to see her. However, he looked down at her today. Once he recognized who was tugging on his sleeve, he seemed to become a little sheepish.

“Honestly, James”, said Evie imperiously, pulling her best impression of their mother on a war path. “What on earth are you doing?”

At her tone, James looked a touch nervous. However, he straightened his face and jerked his head at Snape. “Teaching manners, obviously”, James said, his mouth quirking upwards.

Evie rolled her eyes. “It really doesn’t look like that.” She turned to look at Snape, his face turning purple from the pressure. She gave him a bored look, flicking her eyes thoughtfully up and down his body and locking on to his face. “It looks like you’re just playing with a nasty toad”, she sneered. “You can’t teach a toad to have manners.”

James laughed, knocking Evie with his shoulder. “Little sister, you’re right!”, he roared. Turning to the crowd of students, James called out to them, “I think the best place for a toad is in the water, isn’t it?”

The students laughed, cheering for James to through Snivellus into the Great Lake. Evie smirked, while her stomach swirled inside. Snape turned to her, his mouth opening.

“Please! No! Not Lily! Not Harry!”

Suddenly, Snape turned into James. Evie was standing in Lily and James’ home in Godric’s Hollow, watching He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hang James upside down. James’s clear laugh turned into a high-pitched cackle, as Lily held Harry, cowering in a corner. Evie went for her wand, but she couldn’t move.

She looked down in horror, as she watched a massive snake wrap around her body. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. Snape stood in the door, watching impassively.

“You could have helped me, Evelyn. You could have stopped this all, Evelyn”, Snape sneered at her.

Evelyn struggled against the snake as it squeezed her tighter. She twisted toward Snape, trying to lunge at him.

With a crash, Evie fell out of her bed, her blankets and covers wrapped around her. Her nightshirt was hiked up to her stomach, while the collar was twisted around her shoulder tightly.

She lay there, gasping. Through the curtains she could see that the sun had gone down and that lamp lights lit the ceiling of her room through cracks in the curtains. Rubbing a hand over her face, Evie tried to put her mind together.

She remembered that day clearly. At the time, she didn’t feel remorse of any kind. She didn’t particularly care about James’ constant pursuit of Lily, or how it fueled his dislike of Snape. She didn’t like Snape for her own reasons at the time. His friends tended to mess with younger students, and constantly harassed the 3rd year Gryffindors in particular. She felt triumph at seeing his face when he came up spluttering out of the lake waters.

However, 6 years later, Evelyn only felt sourness in her stomach at the memory. She knew that Severus Snape had joined the ranks of You-Know-Who when he left Hogwarts, and that his talent with potions had granted him great favor with the dark wizard. Letters from Lily and James told her that reconnaissance for the Order of the Phoenix found out that Lucius Malfoy, one of the biggest supporters and followers of You-Know-Who, had made Snape godfather for his new born son.

Evie pulled her hand away from her face, staring at the ceiling. If the Order could figure out how Death Eaters were moving, or who joined the ranks, how couldn’t they have seen that Black had turned? When did it happen? Was it before Lily and James’ wedding? When Harry was born? When they went into hiding? Or was Black always a Death Eater, set to infiltrate the Light?

She laid there on the floor, contemplating on her dream, when a sharp rap on her window startled her. Craning her head up towards the sound, she saw an owl at her window nearest her bed. Evie turned over, twisting the bed sheets more in the process. She pulled herself up, trying to get to the window. However, the bed sheets resisted and pulled her back, causing Evie to fall in a slump once more.

Her nose mashed into the soft blue rug, Evie groaned as the owl tapped on the window again with its beak. Evie stuck her hand out towards where she knew her wand was on the night stand and silently Summoned it to her. When she felt it zoom into her hand, Evie flicked it towards her bed sheets, Vanishing them.

Slowly, Evie stood up, carefully adjusting her nightshirt so it sat neatly without twisting around her body. Evie stretched, her shoulders and arms popping. She combed her fingers through her hair as she walked forward to the window. Tapping the lock with her wand, she unlocked the window and opened it, letting the owl in. Evie shivered as some of the winter air blew in with the owl, who landed on top of the table in front of her couch at the end of her bed.

Closing the window and locking it again, Evie went to the owl who offered her the letter attached to its leg. She took it and sat down on the couch, turning it over. Again, it was stamped with a green shimmering wax impressed with a large curling S.

“What? Why is Slughorn writing me again?” Evie muttered to herself, her voice husky with sleep. She considered returning to bed and leaving the letter for morning. However, looking at the hand writing on the envelope and how much more rushed it seemed compared to his first letter, as well as the late hour, Evie decided to read it anyways.

With a flick of her wand, she re-lit the dying fire in the fireplace, setting it to merrily crackle and pop. She curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, pulling her feet up under herself. She slit the envelope open with her wand and pulled out the letter, reading it by the light of the fire.

“Dear Miss Potter,

                Earlier, I had sent you a letter offering you a position as my apprentice. However, I have regretfully been informed by Professor Dumbledore that the position may be filled by another person. I protested greatly, as I know you would succeed after leaving.

The individual that would become my apprentice, and, it seems, my successor, was a classmate of your brother James. This person, while at Hogwarts, had been a mediocre student at best under my tutelage, and spent most of his and my time arguing against the methods prescribed in the text. I had explained to him, several times, that the methodology and specifications of the potions text was to; first and foremost, teach students how to create potions and why ingredients do what they do. Secondly, it was to teach the theory behind potion making.

It seemed that to this individual, my advice and teaching was below his attention, particularly as he came closer to his leave of Hogwarts. It is with bitterness and regret that I must withdraw my offer.

It is not because I would not handle having two apprentices, but I do not want to expose you to the heart ache and misery that would ensue if you had to spend time with this person.

                Yours,

                                Horace”

Evelyn read over the letter, confused. She had been sure that Slughorn wanted her as an apprentice, and it was nearly unheard of that a headmaster would assign a new teacher before the current one had properly retired.

She picked the envelope up again, looking inside. There was nothing else in the envelope.

She tossed both letter and envelope on to the table, irritated. She slumped on the couch, her legs splayed out towards the fire. While she had been reading, the owl had flown off to the window. It rapped on the window, impatient to return to its master.

Evie stood up and walked to the window, unlocking it and opening the window. The owl swooped out to the frosty December night sky. Evie shivered, leaning against the window sill. She could see that many of the houses on Evie’s street had decorations of some sort glowing in the windows. Evie blew a breath out, watching as the white clouds floated away. The cold clear night was illuminated by the street lights and the half moon above.

Soon, it became too cold for Evie to keep the window any longer. She closed and locked the windows, turning back to the warm fire.

Evie pulled a spare blanket off the back of the couch as she curled up to reread the letter. Nothing new was revealed to her.

Soon, the warm glow of the fire and the heat from the blanket over came her. Her head, heavy with sleep, lolled over. The letter, loose in her hand, slipped out and landed on the floor underneath her.

Evie woke up from her sleep with a start. She hadn’t dreamed, or at least remembered her dreams this time.

Instead of the couch she had fallen asleep on, Evie was back in her bed, her bed sheets and covers tucked in. Evie smiled softly, realizing that Nibby must have put her back in bed. She put her face back into the pillow, enjoying the comfort of just being in your own bed.

However, Evie’s comfort and enjoyment were interrupted by rapping coming from her window yet again.

Irritated, Evie got up out of her warm bed and jammed her feet into her warm woolen slippers. Grumbling, she stalked to the window as she grabbed her wand. Tapping it sharply against the window, she pulled it open and grabbed the owl, who gave a squawk. Ripping the letter off, she chucked the owl out and slammed the window shut. Evie smacked her wand on the window, locking it again. She ripped open the letter, ready to send a scathing reply.

“Miss Potter,

                It seems that Horace and I had a slight miscommunication. When I had said that I offered the position of Potions Master to another, I had not meant that I gave the apprenticeship position to this person. It seems that Horace was greatly anxious as to not tell you the name of this individual. However, I believe that telling you the name of this person would only incite you to take this position even more.

The offer that Horace had given is still open. You still can continue your education that you had begun under Professor Bitterroot. You also still have all access to the Library, as well as available resources pertinent to your research from the Ministry of Magic.

I do apologize for the constant changes in information. It is rather irritating when Information never seems to stay the same.

I hope Harry has continued to be in good health. Poppy has informed me that several children have come down with a cold, and that her beds are being kept filled. It seems that Christmas will fall on a weekday this year. Perhaps you could negotiate with the Dursleys to take Harry sooner?

The decorations this year are incredibly magnificent. Filius has outdone himself, aided, surely, by the joyous feeling of no longer being burdened by Dark Wizards. The students are certainly lighter in mood then this time last year. In fact, Hogwarts saw an increase in student attendance after Halloween. Many muggleborn and half blood students have returned, as their parents now feel that Hogwarts is once again safe.

Please forgive the ramblings of an old man. I did not want to risk you stopping at the beginning with out any sort of happy news or information.

The man whom I have selected to fill the position of Potions Master after Horace retires is Severus Snape. I trust him entirely and have trusted him since before Voldemort fell. In fact, he has been acting as a spy for me for over 5 months when Voldemort fell.

I trust that your answer to Horace can come soon.

                Yours,

                Professor Albus Dumbledore,

 Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry”

Evie sat the letter down on her bed. She tapped her wand against her leg, contemplative.

Severus Snape.

Besides last night, Evelyn hadn’t given much thought to him in the past 3 years. She had been busy adjusting to life in America and studying to achieve her Mastery of Potions to care about old school bullies. She wondered what had lead Dumbledore to take him in as a spy for the Order, but she suspected that he would never tell her. Or be straightforward about it, anyways.

Spreading the paper so it was flat on her bed, Evie looked the letter over again. Chewing on her lip, Evie figured that Dumbledore was partially right in that she would accept the offer. However, she thought, she would not be deciding because of Severus Snape. No, Evelyn Potter would be returning to Hogwarts regardless of what slimy git returned.

Evie pulled on her dressing robe from the end of her bed and hurried out of her room, headed to her study. She had a letter to send to Professor Slughorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four: Harry and Evie celebrate Christmas. Evie gets a letter. Evie sends a letter. Evie picks a fight

**Author's Note:**

> I mean I was just gonna give Baby Harry to Evelyn.  
> Also, next chapter is a bit more Evelyn centric, with more backstory about her character and the Potters.  
> Chapter 2: an offer is made. Evie eats a huge breakfast. Nibby's name is said way too much


End file.
